


A Diamond In The Rough...

by LordJixis



Series: Your Teeth: For Warm Things [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordJixis/pseuds/LordJixis
Summary: ...A shiny piece of coal. People are eating each other in the streets outside, but it's a good day. Relativity has never mattered quite this much.





	A Diamond In The Rough...

Grantaire comes back.

Grantaire always comes back (he always leaves, too.) But today he brought a little vial.

He visibly perks up. He knows because Grantaire smirks, because Grantaire, behind the smirk, looks like the sun just shone on his face after three years of darkness. Some things never change.

He trots over to Enjolras' bed (after locking the door and pushing his bed in front of it) with the smirk turning into more and more of a grin with every step.

“You got some.” He says, when Grantaire stops at the side of his bed with something that's entirely a grin at this point.

“Of course. Anything for Your Highness.”

“Don't call me that.” But there's a smile on his face that matches Grantaire's.

And Grantaire, the blessed being he is, sticks out his tongue. There's dead people dragging their torsos around outside and Grantaire is sticking his tongue out and _smiling_. Enjoras doesn't know how he'd survive this without him (actually, he does: he wouldn't).

And Enjolras is sticking out his tongue in return.

Grantaire dumps packages of needles and syringes onto the bed, they spread across his thighs in a display of pink and green.  
“You even got both sizes.” He breathes.

“Only the best for my dear leader.”

Sometimes he thinks the insults are substitutes for pet names. It makes him hate them a bit less, anyway (the 'my' is just icing on the cake).

He grabs up a needle and goes through the motions that are basically muscle memory at this point. Grantaire is staring, but he's used to that. Most people get a bit interested when you stab a needle approximately an inch into your skin.

He knows that it's just placebo that he feels better as soon as he starts pushing the testosterone in. But _damn_ , does he feel better.

In the same vein, Grantaire looks about ready to start dancing around the room.

“Where'd you even find this?” He questions.

Grantaire shrugs. “Somewhere, I guess.” He glares, but it's one of the playful ones. R can tell the difference, by now. R looks like he's trying to will his face into a glare; it works approximately not at all. There's no ill will here. (They couldn't possibly survive it, what with being the only two humans in a few kilometers.)

And he _knows_ , he really does, that Grantaire went through hell and back to get a little vial for him. He knows that, even though everything is different, it's still the same in so many ways. If he asked Grantaire to break his own back, he would (if he asked him to break Enjolras' back, he wouldn't. It's the difference. It's the problem).

Grantaire keeps leaving. Grantaire keeps coming back.

And Enjolras makes it a bit farther across the room every day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think this was necessary (and I'm [hopefully] past the age of oversharing in A/N) but: I'm trans. I'm a trans dude. Like. I write so many stories about trans Enjolras because stories with that element helped me so goddamn much. Anyway, if you're trans (or not) and something in my story is a squick for you (and I don't have it tagged) I am v sorry, first of all, and also pls let me know so I can tag it and help other people who have the same squick avoid it.


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